


A Light In the Dark

by NoWayToHandleThings



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Blood, Bonding, Gore, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Larry is trying, Vomiting, be careful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:04:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15685992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoWayToHandleThings/pseuds/NoWayToHandleThings
Summary: Vignettes of Cynthia and Connor. Please be careful, there's cute moments but it gets way dark.





	A Light In the Dark

Cynthia sat at home feeling sorry for herself. It was always worst when they were both off at school. She hated being alone. She could clean the house, but there was a surprisingly small amount of mess so that probably wouldn't last more than an hour. With a sigh, Cynthia clicked on the TV and hoped for the best. 

After a few Friends reruns, the house phone rang. Cynthia picked it up. At this point, she'd talk to a telemarketer.

“Mom? Is that you?” It was Connor. After a quick affirmation, he continued, though not before suddenly letting out a violent cough. “I'b feelig sick I’b cobig hobe.” 

“Oh no, do you need me to pick you up?”

“I goddit thaks!” And then he hung up. Cynthia wanted to go pick him up anyway, but Connor was a capable twelve, even sick, and she needed to be here when he got home. So she started setting up hot cocoa and cinnamon toast.

Just as the milk had finished heating and the toast popped up, there was the sound of a door opening. Sure enough, Connor strolled into the kitchen. “Hey, Mom,” he said, picking a piece of toast out of the toaster and taking a loud bite. It was all too casual. Cynthia went over and felt his forehead. 

“You aren't sick, are you?” He gave only a smirk in reply. “Connor, you have to stop doing this. You need your education.”

“We had a sub for math and he put on a movie. In math. And I just thought, Mom could teach me more and I'd have more fun. So I started coughing until they let me go home.”

Cynthia groaned half-heartedly. Her little boy was missing school. But he was doing it to be with her. In the end, she gave in like she always did. “Fine. Fine. I won't take you back to school, but you're giving me your books and we  _ are _ studying.”

Connor grinned toothily, tossing her his bag. “You're the best, Mom. We're doing geometry.”

They did end up studying for a few hours, laughing at Cynthia's dumb angle jokes. When three in the afternoon, and so the end of school, came around, they took a hard earned TV break. 

It took two episodes of Danny Phantom before Connor was asleep with his head in his mother's lap.

 

~~~

 

Cynthia awoke in the middle of the night to the sound of a baby screaming. Somehow, Larry had managed to sleep through this, but he'd been working late. She leaned to her left and picked Connor up from the bassinet next to her bed. He was probably hungry. 

Connor already seemed to be doing a little better, just from being picked up, but he was a baby and he should be fed anyway, so she put him to her breast until he'd had his fill. He looked so beautiful when he was eating. He looked beautiful all the time, of course, but there was something wonderful about the way she was nourishing him, giving him all he needed. It was what she'd been born for. She felt closer to him than anyone else could possibly be.

In the middle of Cynthia's almost unintentional baby talk, praising the boy for being the cutest baby of all time, her husband groggily opened his eyes.

“Cynthia? What are you doing?”

Cynthia gave him a teasing grin. “What, you can sleep through this little pumpkin but not through me?”

Larry looked down. “Connor woke you up, huh?”

Cynthia smiled. “He was hungry. Look at him. He's adorable. Aren't you, sweetie pie, yes you are, you're just the most-”

“I'm going back to sleep. See you in the morning. Try to be quiet.” Larry closed his eyes again, but that was fine. It just meant more bonding time with her baby boy.

 

~~~

 

Connor was meant to call today. It was basically all that Cynthia was looking forward to. Zoe was in college out of state and it was nearly her graduation. Connor was travelling the world, but he always managed to call. It was so lonely at home, and his calls brightened her day. When the phone rang, she picked it up before the first ring was even through. 

“Hey! Connor! How are you? How’s Europe?”

Connor laughed through the line. “Hi, Mom. I'm fine. Paris is great. Wonderful people, wonderful food.”

Cynthia sighed with relief. He sounded so happy. “That's great, honey, just great,” she said. She needed to hear his voice more. “Zoe's graduating soon, I got you a ticket. Will you be here?”

There was something that sounded like a sharp inhale. Cynthia's heart started beating faster. “Mom, I don't… I don't know, okay? It depends. I want to, but it depends.”

“On what? What the fuck does it depend on? Sorry, I just…” And she was crying. Shit. She was crying into the stupid phone because her adult, twenty-three year old son maybe couldn't come over. “I miss you. I miss you so much. I need you, Dad needs you, Zoe needs you. Please come back.”

There was a hand on hers. Larry. He shouldn't be here, he should be at work. He touched her face, gently turning it so she was facing him. Connor wasn't fucking replying and there was this big hurt look on Larry's face and it was all too much.

“Connor? Connor, please! Say something, say anything, just, I'll do anything if you come home, you're scaring me, please,” she said. It sounded manic, she knew, but god dammit, she needed her baby.

“Cynthia. Give me the phone.” Larry's voice was firm, yet soothing. It was obviously practiced. Reluctantly, she handed the phone over and he held it up to her. “Thanks. Cynthia, can you see the screen on this?”

Cynthia wiped her eyes and looked at the phone. “Yeah, Connor's calling, he's on the phone, Larry, he said he might not be able to come to Zoe's-”

Larry shook his head. “No. Look again. I know you can do this. Close your eyes, take some deep breaths.” 

She did as he said, then looked back at the phone. Her anxiety turned up to eleven. “It… it's off?”

The corners of Larry's mouth turned up, just a little bit, just for a second. “Good job,” he said, and then his face just dropped. It hurt to watch. “Cynthia, don't lie to me. You've been seeing him again, haven't you?” The tears were back. For both of them. She nodded. “Shit. You saw him last night?” Another nod. “He was a baby then, right?” Cynthia's nodding just kept going. It was part of her now. She'd admitted to seeing him regularly and agreed to a doctor's appointment that afternoon without really knowing what she was doing. And all the while, she was mostly worried about why Connor wasn't answering. She knew why. Of course she knew. But she wanted to worry a little longer.

 

~~~

 

“Your husband tells me you've been seeing Connor again.”

“It was really just a few times. It's nothing.”

“Mrs Murphy, it's not nothing if you're hallucinating that much.”

“No, I promise. I was telling him how much I missed him, it was cathartic. It wasn't bad.”

“Mrs Murphy, I'm hesitant to believe that after last time. Remember?” 

“Yes! Yes, I remember. But this isn't like that. I'm not lying about seeing him, I'm seeing him and I shouldn't be, I know. But I know he isn't alive. He passed six years ago. He... took his own life. Okay? I know what's real and what isn't. I'm fine. I don't need to go back to hospital.”

“Cynthia, you can't get better unless you want to. Do you want to stop seeing your son?”

“Yes. No. I’m not sure.”

“Okay... I'm going to up your dose. Here's the new prescription. I don't think you're going to hurt yourself or anyone else, so you can go home. But I want you to see your therapist twice a week and if you see Connor again, call me.”

“Thanks.”

 

~~~

 

When Cynthia left the office, Larry was bouncing his leg, something she'd never seen him do, in the waiting room. He saw her and stood up but didn't rush over, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. 

After she'd gotten over to him, he was already touching her arms and she wanted to yell at him that she was  _ fucking fine _ but she was outside the psychiatrist’s office and that wouldn't look good. So, trying to keep the annoyance out of her voice, she said, “I'm okay to go home. New prescription, but she said I'm doing pretty well.”

Larry's brow furrowed. “You saw our dead son. I don't think that's 'doing pretty well’. Are you sure-”

_ “Are you the doctor or is she?” _

Larry held his hands up and thank god. Another second of that itchy contact and she would have screamed. “Fine. Fine. I'm just concerned. I don't want to lose you, Cyn.” His face got so sad and that was the worst part of this conversation. They'd had it, in some way, dozens of times. And always. When he looked like a kicked puppy. That was the worst.

So she put on her best everything-is-fine face and said, “You won't. I'm alright.”

 

~~~

 

Larry had dropped Cynthia off at home so he could go order her new dosage. He hadn't said it in as many words, but it was clear he didn't want her in a pharmacy. Which made sense. But it felt like a punch in the gut. 

Of course, the second Larry left the room, Connor cleared his throat from behind her. “So. Good thinking at the psychiatrist. You wouldn't want her to think you're as crazy as me.”

Cynthia closed her eyes, took some deep breaths, like she'd practiced. He wasn't real. He was from her imagination. He was dead.

When her eyes opened, Connor was staring her in the face. He was seventeen. The same age he was when. When. “You know, I can hear you thinking. I may be in your head but that doesn't mean I'm not real. You can't just fucking wish me away,  _ Mom. _ ” he spat the last word like it was an insult. It kind of was. What kind of mother was she? What kind of mother let her son hurt that much? What kind of mother pushed her daughter away, just because-

“This isn't about Zoe. It's never about Zoe. She hates me. She said so in counselling, remember? She doesn't deserve anything. She was always picking on me.  She's probably the reason I offed myself.”

Cynthia broke. Her face was wet, her shoulders were shaking. No. No, this was wrong. Connor had been worse to his sister than she was to him. She had a right to feel the way she did, Zoe didn't have to mourn Co-

“Yeah, but that's not what you really think. Right? I wouldn't be saying it if you didn't think it. That's the point of this subconscious hallucination thing.”

Cynthia stood up - when had she sat down? - and leaned her head up to talk to Connor. He was towering over her, even more than he had when he was alive. “You're trying to endear yourself to me and isolate me, that's why you're taking his shape. You're not him. You're poisoning my mind. You’re a symptom of my illness. I don't have to believe anything you say.”

Then Connor actually laughed. But it wasn't a happy laugh. It was dry and emotionless. “Wow. Doc really did a number on you, huh? You talk about poison like you understand it. I'm the only one of us who knows anything about-” he threw up on himself without letting it disturb his sentence. It was thin, but full of half dissolved pills. He looked like he had when she found him six years ago. Except he was smiling maniacally. “-poison.” 

Connor fell to the ground, in the same position. The exact same position as last time.  And he disappeared into nothing, but not before weakly saying “You could have saved me.”

There was a distant sound of a woman screaming and crying. At the back of her mind, Cynthia knew it was her. 

 

~~~

 

It took a hell of a lot of convincing, but, after a Xanax, Cynthia was able to persuade Larry that she'd just been tired and it was a long day and she didn't need to go back to the doctor. It was all total bullshit but he believed it enough to mutter something about work and go get his computer. They sat in the living room for hours, Larry staring at his laptop and Cynthia staring at the TV. It was a marathon of some shitty reality show, but neither of them cared enough to change the channel.

When maybe four episodes had gone by, there was a faint sound from outside. It sounded like a child. A little boy. Crying. There was a part of Cynthia that said to be wary, that this sound couldn't be trusted, that she couldn't be trusted. And for a few minutes, she listened to that part, though she started fidgeting and getting antsy.

The crying got, not louder, but more desperate. The part of Cynthia that told her not to go to him had gotten quieter. That kid needed someone. But getting up took so much energy. The decision was tough, but she stayed on the sofa.

The child cried out for his mother. Cynthia was up like a shot. Larry looked at her quizzically. “You okay?”

“Bathroom.”

“Okay, hold on, honey, I just need to finish this thought.” Of course. Of course he didn't trust her to go to the bathroom herself. She couldn't help that poor little boy if Larry was hanging around. But it was the best she could get. 

Oddly enough, the sound got closer and closer as she walked closer to the bathroom. Larry told her that he'd be right outside if she needed him, and not to lock the door or he'd call 911. Cynthia nodded. And when she opened the door, there was a little boy with dark hair in the bath, bawling into his hands. She walked into the bathroom and closed the door, so as not to give anything away. 

Connor looked about five.

“Are you alright, baby?”

“Mommy! Mommy, I can't… I can't see, Mommy!”

Jesus Christ. Okay, this was terrifying. But she had to play calm, so she hushed her voice and said, “Okay. Can you take your hands off your eyes and let Mommy have a look?”

Connor whimpered and nodded. He moved his arms and  _ fuck fuck fuck fuck there was nothing there. _ Just holes where the eyes should be. But she needed to stay calm.

“Did something happen, sweetie? Did… did you fall on something, or… did you hurt your eyes?”

Connor's whole demeanor changed in an instant. He stabilised. He sat up and stopped crying. He'd be staring at her if he had eyes. It seemed like he was calmer. Colder. “Mommy, you didn't love me enough. You don't love me. You don't want me to see you. So now I can't see you. Isn't this what you wanted.”

Cynthia leaned down and picked Connor up. He clung to her and she rubbed his back, kissing his head, shoulder, back, whatever she could reach. “No, sweetie, I just… I don't think it's healthy. I don't think I should be seeing you. It doesn't mean I don't love you. Okay? I love you very much, but you're… not real.”

He pulled away from her and jumped down. “I feel real, Mommy. I feel-” and then he shrieked. It was all Cynthia could do not to shriek with him, Larry was still outside the door. 

Connor held his arms out. There were dozens of cuts, all bleeding, across his arms. Where Connor's had been when they'd taken off his jacket six years ago. Cynthia took her shirt off and pressed it to Connor's arms to stem the bleeding. It didn't work. The shirt, and her hands, got soaked. She was now crying, quietly. Connor screamed again. Cynthia lifted the shirt. There were two more cuts now. Deeper ones. One on each arm. Straight down the middle. Where hers had been two years ago. “No,” she whispered. “No, I don't like it. Make it stop. Please. Stop it, please.”

Connor smiled and walked over to the door, like a much older person. He didn't even seem to notice that he was bleeding onto the floor. He bolted the door shut. “I can make it stop. I can make it all go away. You can see me again. The  _ real _ me. You can make up for being so awful.” He climbed on the toilet and opened the medicine cabinet. Cynthia's new prescription was in there, completely full. She picked it up, but it was like she wasn't doing it. It opened. The pills poured into her hand. Connor was reassuring her. This was right. This was the right thing to do. Connor needed her to do this. He needed her. He needed her. 

Out of nowhere, the door flew open. No, not open. It had come down. Or part of it had. And the pills were knocked out of Cynthia's hand. 

She heard herself say, “No! No, no I need to do this, Connor needs me, no, he  _ needs me, he NEEDS me, don't you get it, please, let me go, let me go, I need this, please! _ ”

 

~~~

 

“Mrs Murphy, I recommend staying here for at least another week or so. We had to keep you sedated for three days because every time the drugs wore off, you started screaming. Sometimes for Connor, sometimes for death. You weren't - aren't - healthy and a stay here could help.”

“I. I did? I don't remember. I don't… Jesus Christ.”

“I'm afraid so. You seem more stable now, but I don't think you'll be safe at home. We can't keep you here without consent, but I strongly encourage giving that consent.”

“Oh. That's. When is graduation?”

“I'm assuming you mean your daughter's? It's not my job to know this, but I think your husband mentioned that it was on Monday. So, if you were to stay here, you'd miss it. But, again, I think you may need to for your own safety, and there will be other ways to celebrate. Maybe Mr Murphy could take a video? If you choose to stay here.”

“Yeah. Makes sense.”

“Is that a deal breaker for you?”

“I don't… I don't _ know, I don't KNOW, I DON'T KNOW, I DON'T _ -”

“Shhh. Shhh. It's okay. It's okay. You're perfectly safe here, we're going to get you fixed up, you'll get better very soon. Deep breaths. In… Out… In… Out… Good. Good.”

“I… I should stay here, shouldn't I?”

 

~~~

 

Cynthia's first visit went better than she thought it would. Larry started crying, and Zoe didn't come, but Cynthia didn't break down and Connor didn't appear. They'd even managed to make each other laugh, which hadn't happened in maybe years, so. Yeah, better than she thought. A nurse escorted her back to her bed, where she lay down and closed her eyes. She just needed a little quiet. 

There was a hand on her shoulder. She didn't have therapy, did she? What was going on?

“Mom?”

Cynthia shut her eyes tighter and put her hands over her ears. No no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no no

“Mom, I… it's okay. I just want to talk.”

When Cynthia sat up and opened her eyes, Connor was sitting next to her on the bed. He was seventeen. Most of the time, he was seventeen. Reflexively, she smiled at him. It hurt, but seeing her little boy again made her smile. 

He smiled back. It was nice. It looked real. Like he was happy. “Hey,” he said, and then he got this big serious look on his face. His eyes welled up. “I'm so sorry. For. For everything. For the way I acted when I was alive. For the way I acted when I was dead. For killing myself. For hurting you, and the family, and. I never meant to hurt anyone.”

She wanted to hold him, desperately tried to hold him, but she couldn't get a good grip on him. It was like her arms were going through him. 

He sighed and said, “I’m not as tangible as usual. I… the meds, the therapy… you're even getting along with Dad. I think this might be the last time you see me.” Cynthia let out an involuntary sob that wracked her body. She felt something like an arm on her shoulders, very briefly. “Mom. You know this is a good thing, right. That it means you're getting better.” She forced herself to nod. 

“No, I know, I just. I don't want you to go. I don't know what I am without you.”

“I won't be  _ gone.  _ Even if you don't notice me, I'll always be a part of you.”

Cynthia sniffed and wiped her nose with her hand. She tried to look over at Connor but he always seemed to be just out of sight, only visible in the corner of her eye. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Yes,” he said. He smiled. She couldn't see it, but she still knew he was smiling. She chuckled wetly.

“I love you, Connor.”

“I love you too, Mom.” Cynthia closed her eyes. She had this sinking feeling in her chest. It felt like someone had kissed her forehead. Then, way off in the distance, the high pitched voice of a little boy. “Why did the cow cross the road?”

It took a while to remember the punchline to that one. But eventually Cynthia smiled a little, whispering, “To get to the udder side. Right?” 

She opened her eyes, half-hoping he'd be able to tell her if she'd remembered her line correctly. But of course, there was nobody there.

Cynthia dissolved into tears, but even as she convulsed and soaked her pillow, she felt lighter.

**Author's Note:**

> Uhhhhhh I'm sorry?? I'm @the-third-flower-is-yellow on Tumblr if you want to scream at me more personally. I hope you didn't get too hurt. Please leave a comment etc!


End file.
